'Would that even matter to you?'
'Probably not.'
My partner opened up the candy and popped the entire bar into his mouth. He chewed for almost a full minute, making cooing noises.
'Maybe it was Bill, in Evidence.' Benedict's mouth was still half full. 'He's always been sweet on you. This could be his way of expressing his love.'
'Bill is almost seventy.'
'Beggars can't be choosers, Jack. Want one?'
'I'll pass. But feel free.'
He grunted a thanks and opened another.
'There's no one you know who would give you candy?'
'Nobody. I'm all alone in this big cruel world.'
'Geez, Jack. That's really sad.'
'If there were an award for the world's biggest loser, I wouldn't even win that.'
'At least you don't dwell on it.'
I hit the gas and cruised through an intersection just as a yellow light was turning red. It was an unnecessary risk, but I didn't get to be a lieutenant in the male-dominated world of Chicago law enforcement without taking chances.
'You could try Lunch Mates,' Herb said.
'What?'
'It's a dating service.'
'Jesus.'
'I'm serious.' He took a bite of the candy, smacking appreciatively. 'You make an appointment to meet with an agent and answer questions about yourself. Then they arrange for you to meet for lunch with a compatible man. It's all prearranged so there's no pressure.'
'I could also meet men by putting on some hot pants and walking along Twenty-third and Stony. At least I'd be the payee instead of the payer.'
Benedict popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth.
'I just read an article about it in the Chicago Reader. It seems like a good idea.'
'Only weirdos meet people like that.'
'Not at all. Just people with full-time careers who are sick of the bar scene.'
'They'd match me with some weirdo.'
'I think that both parties have to agree to meet before the lunch takes place. What have you got to lose?'
'My dignity, my self-respect...'
'Bullshit. You don't have any dignity or self-respect.'
'Jesus.'
I hung a left and swung into the parking lot of Mercy, where I parked in a loading zone. As Benedict and I extracted ourselves from the less-than-spacious confines of my beater, a parking lot attendant sauntered over, oozing attitude. I flashed my badge. Instant respect.
We strolled up to the doctors' building, a large oppressive brick edifice that competed for the ugly award with the equally oppressive hospital. They stood side by side, large and brown, with crumbling brickwork and rusty fire escapes. Chicago was a city filled with great architecture, but every garden had a few weeds.
'I see you couldn't leave your compulsion behind,' I said to Herb, indicating the candy in his hands.
'I was thinking about passing it around the children's ward. That is, if you don't mind.'
'Not at all. I must say I'm touched by your unselfish nature.'
'Bernice says if I gain any more weight, she's cutting off the nookie.'
'The No Nookie Diet.'
It was a welcome shock to find the interior of the doctors' building both brightly lit and pleasant. After consulting the front desk, we were directed to the fifth floor.
Dr. Booster had been a general practitioner. He shared an office with Dr. Emilia Kuzdorff and Dr. Ralph Potts, an OB-GYN and a pediatrician, respectively. We got into the elevator with an attractive blond woman and her sniffling daughter. Watching the child sniffle made me aware that I had a slight runny nose as well. Serves me right for not dressing properly.
I searched my pocket for a Kleenex -- while on the job, I didn't carry a purse. Too cumbersome. That's why I favored blazers with big pockets. Today I was wearing a gray Donna Karan and a matching skirt, with a blue blouse and black flats. Heels were another hindrance to the job.
Sadly, my pockets were without any tissue. I briefly considered using Benedict's tie, which was a green-and- orange-striped monstrosity that was too wide by at least thirty years. It was also covered with chocolate stains. Herb may be out of style, but he's messy to make up for it.
